Professor
by SableUnstable
Summary: Hermione gets a lot more than she bargained for when visiting her wizard at Hogwarts. One-shot, alternate reality, Hermione/Remus, rated M for language and adult content. See inside for further warnings. Written for Worthfull1.


**Professor**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd use every resource I had to make Remus real…

 **Warnings: teacher/student kink, light bondage, light spanking, light dom/sub.**

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 **A/N - Written for _Worthfull1_ as a very belated birthday gift, who asked for Remione and dirty Professor Lupin. I really hope this lives up to the prompt! Enjoy and happy (late) birthday, Worthfull!**

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The hallways of Hogwarts never changed.

 _Which is a contradiction in itself, isn't it?_ Hermione thought as she strode through said hallways, having just completed a late afternoon meeting with the headmistress. Of course the hallways of Hogwarts changed. They were magical after all. Hogwarts herself was the epitome of magic; the place where the multitude of young British witches and wizards went to learn their craft. Even if Hogwarts hadn't had a life of her own, she still would've been magical. In the eyes of eleven and twelve year olds, the ancient castle in Scotland was the be all and end all of the wizarding world.

It was a little different for a twenty-four year old witch who'd, quite literally, grown up in another reality. Hermione's smile to herself was wry at the thought, unable to help the light dusting of melancholy that hid beneath the expression and shadowed her eyes.

Three years. She'd lived in this reality, this dimension, for three years. And it was only the beginning, wasn't it? Because unless the Unspeakables at the ministry came up with a way to send her home, she was going to continue to live in this reality for the rest of her life. Going home wasn't a likely scenario, however, as for them to find a way to send her home, they'd have to figure out how the bloody hell she'd managed to jump realities in the first place.

She shook her head, amusement dispelling the doldrums and twisting her smile into a self-deprecating smirk. The brightest witch of her age. Her third year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had called her that. He'd meant it, too, as had many others who'd come to agree with him over the years. And yet, for someone so seemingly intelligent, her naiveté had been mind-blowing, even after surviving and winning a war. Her transportation into another reality had been no one's fault but her own. She'd been too eager to learn, too eager to advance and prove herself still, too eager to _know_. And she'd suffered for it.

Still, it wasn't _all_ bad. Far from it in fact. Thoughts of a certain DADA professor had her pausing in her stride. The meeting hadn't run as long as she'd been expecting, so she still might have time. He was the same when it came down to it, and in her reality he'd always finish marking or lesson planning before he allowed himself to stop for the day, which had often meant he'd show up in the Great Hall for dinner when everyone else was almost finished. If he'd show up at all.

She just might be able to catch him.

With spur of the moment plans of a quiet dinner in his quarters or maybe a visit to Hogsmeade – where she wouldn't have to suffer Sirius's cooking for once – Hermione hastily changed direction and made her way through the school. She hadn't thought she'd get a chance to see him on this visit, so she intended to make the most of it.

A romantic relationship with Remus Lupin, mild-mannered war hero, resident werewolf and all around nice guy, hadn't been something Hermione had seen coming. At all. Sure, she'd had a crush on him in third year in her reality – he was kind and intelligent, with a little something lurking behind his lovely, muted green eyes that had made her shiver, so it was to be expected – but in that reality he'd gone on to marry Tonks and had had Teddy. He'd also been nineteen years her senior, not to mention her professor at school. It was never going to happen, something that was indisputably brought home to her in the Hospital Wing in sixth year, when a lingering hope she hadn't even realized was still alive inside her had been shattered rather brutally by Nymphadora Tonks shouting in live technicolour.

Here, however, things were different. Very different. Nothing had highlighted that more than a twenty-one year old Hermione finally being allowed at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – Shell Cottage, not 12 Grimmauld Place – after proving herself to Dumbledore and being confronted by a fifteen year old Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the female third nowhere to be seen. It hadn't taken long to figure out that the Hermione Granger of _this_ reality just didn't exist – a fact, the Unspeakables had pointed out, that had probably allowed her to cross into their reality in the first place.

Hermione sighed, her thoughts darkening a little again. It was hard, being without her two best friends. They were still here of course, but it wasn't the same. She hadn't a clue before her reality hopping debacle had begun that not all realities ran parallel to each other, though they still contained nearly all of the same characters, scenarios and playing fields. _Nearly._ This one was five years behind the reality Hermione had been born into, meaning she'd shown up when there was still two years of the second wizarding war to go.

And what a terrifying, exhausting, painfully emotional two years they were.

The young witch shook her head and purposely ignored the shadows haunting her as she approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, having moved through the halls quite speedily. The war had been over for nine months, and for the most part Hermione had accepted her lot. She knew there was a very high chance she'd never go home again, and about 80% of the time she was okay with that. Developing friendships with Sirius, Bill and surprisingly Fleur, and Charlie when he was in the country had helped. And her job as liaison between Kingsley and the magical world, and muggleborns and the non-magical world was very fulfilling. Then, of course, there was Remus…

No, she had no right to feel blue when she had something as wonderful and exciting as her relationship with Remus. They'd only been together for four months, but Hermione was already on the verge of losing her heart. He was calm and gentle and smart and so sweet. Humble and shy. Studious and quick-witted and sly when he wanted to be. Boyish when Sirius encouraged it, charming and a lot of fun when he planned dates, or when he tried his best to cheer her up, and absolutely _marvellous_ in bed. Remus may not have been perfect – he focused far too much on the wolf for her liking at times – but Hermione was very quickly beginning to think he was perfect for her.

A grin growing, she opened the classroom door and stepped inside.

"Remus? Are you here?"

The room was empty, but she called out anyway, knowing that if he wasn't lost in his work he'd hear her even from his office at the top of the stairs. Then again, he'd probably hear her even if he was lost in his work – or at least sense her anyway. He always knew when she was around, a sense that only got stronger around the full moon.

" _It's the scent of your skin, pet. It drives him wild,"_ Sirius had smirked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively when she'd questioned the animagus a few months after she'd first arrived. She'd scoffed at the time, not believing him, but when she'd asked Remus about it not long after they'd become official, he'd flushed hotly.

" _It's not just the scent of your skin, Hermione,"_ was all he'd said before retreating, voice low and a bit rough. Hermione had spent a sleepless night that night imagining _exactly_ what it was that he was scenting, and had gotten up the next morning with bags under her eyes and a persistent ache between her legs. Flaring nostrils and flaring eyes had led from that to their first time together, and with surprisingly very little wallowing and self-sacrificing on Remus's part, they hadn't looked back.

"Remus?" she called again, just to be sure. Thoughts of their exploits in the bedroom had brought a liquid warmth to her centre and she ventured further into the room, eager to see her werewolf. Once again, there was no answer, and Hermione had to resign herself to having missed him. She frowned in disappointment, her gaze sweeping the room and automatically categorizing the differences – a bad habit she'd picked up when she'd first arrived and had never been able to break.

Brown eyes stopped dead on the desk at the front of the room, growing large as Hermione took hurried steps forward to stand in front of it.

It was a thing of beauty. A wide, smooth plain of deep walnut, the whorls of the wood clearly visible through the stain, it took Hermione's breath away. It was Queen Anne in style, with curved corners and fluted legs, the legs so intricately carved that they looked like they belonged to a wild animal like a lion… or a wolf. A quick dart around to the front of the desk showed seven drawers, three running vertical on each side of barrel of space allowed for the chair that was sitting behind it, the last one in between, each with a shiny brass handle that mirrored the detail on the legs. It was a gorgeous piece of furniture, and given that it hadn't been there the last time Hermione had visited Remus in his classroom - not to mention the only thing sitting on it was a framed photograph - it was obviously new.

The stiff piece of parchment spellotaped to one of the handles helped verify this – and thank Merlin someone had enough knowledge not to use wand magic on what could quite possibly be a highly expensive antique. Hermione reached for the note curiously.

 _Here you go, Moony, and don't say I don't ever give you anything. Congratulations on scoring your professorship again! Embrace and enjoy, my friend, and remember: details!_ _Sirius._

"Congratulations? He's five months late!" Hermione grumbled under her breath, unable to help feeling a little put out. The desk was a brilliant idea and she was now wishing she'd thought of it herself.

 _He did like my gift though,_ she thought, her eyes flicking to the framed photo, and with a pleased smile on her lips, her hand sliding in a slow sweep across the butter-smooth wood that drew forth a sigh that was almost sexual in nature, she leant over the desk and went to pick up the frame.

A surprised cry was ripped from her when an unexpected tingle of magic ran over her arm and she was physically _yanked_ forward, her upper half pressing down onto the desk. The arm reaching for the frame was pulled out in front of her, and as she'd thrown her other hand down in an instinctive reaction to try and halt her abrupt movement, that arm was pulled out straight as well. An extra surge of magic flared over her hands and arms, palms pressed solidly against the top of the desk, and then seemed to skip over her shoulders and down her back until it flared again when it reached her waist, running down her legs before fading completely.

That wasn't the only thing that had faded completely.

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers when goosebumps broke out over her suddenly bare backside. Both her long denim skirt and knickers were gone, vanished in a wash of magic. She was as naked as the day she was born from the waist down, and it also looked like… she tugged on her hands, then tugged on them again, fury and panic just starting to wind their way through her mind.

She was stuck! So much for not using magic on an expensive antique! And her she couldn't reach her wand either, strapped in its halter against her inner forearm as if was. Gods, she was going to _murder_ Sirius!

"Hermione?"

Hermione groaned, her forehead falling to the desk with a solid thump, heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. He _would_ have to come in the instant she found herself in this predicament, wouldn't he? She shook her head and blew out a breath before looking up and sending the intruder an embarrassed smile.

"Um, hi Remus. You should go to the Great Hall, you know. Don't want to miss dinner!"

"Why are you lying on my desk?" the sandy-haired wizard asked, his brows pulling down in confusion. He moved from the doorway and approached her slowly, canting his head as he tried to puzzle her position out. "I thought you weren't going to be able to see me today? Weren't you expecting the meeting to run late?"

He continued to move towards her and a shaft of dread spiked through Hermione. She tugged at her hands frantically, her knees bending inward in a futile attempt to hide herself from him.

"Don't come any closer!"

"What?" Remus frowned, halting automatically. "Why not? What's going on, Hermione? Why do you look like… you're not hurt, are you?" He rushed forward before she could stop him and then stopped dead when he reached the far corner of the desk, green eyes going very wide. "Oh."

Hermione groaned again and pressed her face against the wood, sure that her cheeks were hot enough to cook an egg. "I swear I'm going to neuter that fucking mutt," she muttered.

"Sirius did this?"

His voice was low and a little husky, and Hermione blinked in surprise, her eyelashes brushing against the wood beneath her as she automatically squirmed at the tone. The heat in her belly that hadn't really disappeared despite her situation ignited again, and from the sound of the long breath being drawn in through his nose, Remus caught the change. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

 _It's not just the scent of your skin, Hermione._ She shivered and licked her lips, raising her head to gaze unseeingly across the classroom. She could sense him at her back, silently taking in the view. Her heart began to race.

"U-um, yeah, he gave you the desk and this has his signature all over it," she said, tone a touch breathy. A thought occurred to her and she teeth clenched. "But if he intends for this to happen to every female that approaches your desk, teacher or _student_ , I'm going to shove my wand straight up his arse and hex his bloody bollocks blue!"

"I bet he'd enjoy that."

Hermione's head whipped around, but he continued before she could splutter over his observation.

"I don't believe this would happen if anyone else touched the desk."

"It won't?" she questioned, growing frustrated and trying to lift her hands for the umpteenth time when he moved all the way behind her and she lost sight of him. She huffed when they stayed firmly stuck in place.

"No," he murmured, and Hermione jerked, mouth gaping when rough hands smoothed over the outside of her thighs, slowly gliding down from the crease of her arse to the backs of her knees. "So soft. You've such soft skin, Miss Granger. No, I don't believe this wasn't meant for anyone but you."

 _Miss Granger?_ "H-how can you t-tell?" she gasped, wiggling her hips when his thumbs curved inward, pressing into sensitive skin as they made their way back up, but stopping right before they touched where she increasingly wanted them most. "Remus! A-aah."

"Now, now, Miss Granger, I won't stand for that type of disrespect in my classroom. It's Professor. We wouldn't want to get into trouble, would we?"

"P-professor?" Hermione groaned, confused and incredibly turned on. She shook her head to try to clear the fog of lust that was steadily reducing her to single-word sentences. What was he talking about? _This_ Remus had never been her profess- _oh God!_ She jerked violently as the thumbs pressed right against her centre for the briefest moment, dragging across her aching folds before retreating.

"Good girl. That's better. See what respect gets you?" Wheels squeaked lightly and the angle of his hands changed. Hermione's lips parted, breath catching when soft, warm air blew gently across her thighs. Was he… was he _sitting_ in his chair? Right in front of her- a shudder ran through her and her head dropped. Her nipples were peaking hard, pushing against the fabric of her bra and shirt; she shifted her shoulders, rubbing them against the desk. A quiet moan escaped her at the friction.

"Hmmm. You're wet, aren't you? You're enjoying yourself. This pleases me."

His voice was still low, still husky, but there was another quality to it now. Just under the confidence in his words was a crackling. A strain, like his voice was about to break any second. A constant rasp, an underlying growl, a tone that Hermione was very familiar with. It proved that the situation was affecting him just as much as it was her, despite how controlled his words made him sound, and it settled the last of her misgivings. She imagined that if she could see him, there would be a very distinct bulge in his trousers. She licked her lips again at the thought. They'd never role-played before, but if he was enjoying it so much, she was more than willing to play along.

However, they _were_ in his classroom, which was effectively a public domain…

"Remus, the d-door."

Her gasp was as sharp as the palm that abruptly met her backside, the smack loud in the otherwise empty classroom. It hadn't really hurt, rather it'd taken her by surprise, and Remus immediately followed it by rubbing soothing circles into the now slightly burning skin of her bum.

"You disappoint me, Miss Granger. I thought you were a quick study."

Two fingers dipped down and then suddenly they were inside her, pumping once, twice, three times. Hermione cried out, her body twitching, straining, trying desperately to push back against his hand, but there was only so much she could do with her hands and arms stuck to the desk and Remus right in behind her. His thumb swept across her outer lips as he pumped, parting her and thrumming over her swollen clit repeatedly, building the coil in her stomach higher and higher until she felt herself begin to come apart…

And then his hand was gone.

"W-what? No! Remus, please!"

Another sharp smack. "Respect, Miss Granger!"

"Ugh, fuck! Re- um, P-Professor, the door, Professor, the door, please, Professor."

Fabric shifted and Hermione dragged her head in time to see magic pull the door closed and flare around the frame. She sighed in relief and tried to catch her breath, her body humming almost uncomfortably.

"A little respect goes a long way, doesn't it? Now, I believe it's time for you to show me how much you want that top grade. You like being the best, don't you, Miss Granger?"

His breath still brushed along her thighs; cool against the arousal now painted on her skin, and Hermione shivered, her walls clenching with need. Sweet Merlin, she needed to come. This game was torture and it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon. She shifted against the desk and wiggled her hips, searching for something, anything, to alleviate the pulse inside of her.

"Oh God. God. Touch me. Please, Professor. I need… please touch me."

She was too far gone to worry about how wanton she sounded, but going by the way Remus's hand spasmed on her leg, a soft curse echoing from behind her, her whimper had gotten to him. Later, she would smile when she thought of that moment. It was very nice to know that even though Remus was in control of their unexpected union, she could still distract him. He cleared his throat and chuckled, the deep sound decidedly shaky.

"Er, yes. Patience. Patience is a virtue, my dear. I believe I asked you a question. When a teacher asks a student a question, they really should answer straight away. You like being the best-" Hermione shrieked when a warm, wet tongue dragged slowly over her sex. "-don't you?" He licked her again and the curly-haired witch arched her back and let out a broken moan.

"Answer me!" Remus snapped, his hand coming down on her backside once more. Hermione jolted as the sharp pressure seemed to spike straight to her clit.

" _Fuck!_ Yes! Yes, yes, I love being the best! Please, Professor, just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it! _Anything!_ "

She spread her legs and pushed back in offering, and Remus's breath caught before another curse slipped free, his voice a groan. There was a pause behind her, the sound of deep breaths being slowly drawn in accompanying it. Then the chair creaked and the feel of a woollen sweater pressing lightly against her bum.

"The best students only come when they're told to," he growled, his voice closer as he leant over her back. Hermione's eyes flew open, and then with another creak of the chair, his mouth was on her.

It was an impossible task right from the start. His hands spread her thighs wide and he all but attacked her sex, licking and nipping and spearing into her with his tongue. He seemed to be trying to catch every drop of arousal he could find, flicking at that little bundle of nerves, lapping at her as if she was a smooth, decadent dessert he couldn't get enough of. Hermione withered like there was an electric current running through her body, moaning lewdly, sweat breaking out as she bucked against him. And when he pushed his tongue in and deliberately stabbed it at the place inside her that no one had found before him, reaching around and pinching her clit at the same time, she shattered completely.

Lights flashing behind her eyes, Hermione yelled his name as the bitingly sharp pleasure surged through her, blocking the world out until her body slumped back onto the desk, spent and exhausted. It was a while before she became aware enough to realize that Remus was no longer sitting in his chair behind her. She lifted her heavy head and tried to crane her neck to see him.

"Rem- uh, Professor?" she rasped. "What are you- _nngghh!_ "

God, she was full. So full. His hips lunged forward and his cock filled her in a single thrust, the drive so powerful it pushed her torso forward towards the front of the desk, her motion only stopped by her thoroughly stuck hands. Remus gripped her hip and lifted her leg until her thigh was on the desk, knee bent, opening her up further. He withdrew, his hard, hot length pulling from Hermione's channel making her whine, lifted his own leg until it was bent over hers, then plunged back in. Then he began to pound.

The sound of flesh smacking flesh filled the room, Remus's grunts and curses doing as much for Hermione as his cock driving into her did. The heat built rapidly and Hermione whimpered and panted, letting out low, guttural sounds that rose steadily in pitch the more Remus thrust. Remus's hips pistoned, hers pushed back to meet his, the desk swayed, and then Hermione suddenly found her head jerked up, Remus's hand buried in her curls. He leant over her again and Hermione caught a flash of amber eyes.

"Take the O, Hermione," he ordered hoarsely, and it was either what could be considered the grade he'd just given her, the use of her first name finally, or the fact that he immediately turned her head and kissed her that sent her over the edge. Perhaps it was all three. Whatever it was, it had her body clenching anyway, the coil of pleasure erupting inside her for the second time that evening. Hermione screamed into Remus's mouth as the orgasm washed through her, her mind flooding red then white. Her sex pulsed and clamped down on Remus, setting off his own climax and making him groan loud and long, his cock jerking and his release filling her in hot spurts before he collapsed onto the sprawled witch, his breath blowing through her sweat-soaked hair and across the back of her neck. They both lay still as their pounding hearts gradually calmed.

There was a random tingle of magic and Hermione lazily opened one eye to see her hands shine for a moment before the light faded. So. She could move again. Trust the mutt to allow her that right when it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She was still bared-bottomed, however. Hell, Remus was still inside her. If her clothes didn't reappear… oh, fuck it. She sighed and turned her head to grant Remus's fingers better access to her cheek. She really didn't care at the moment.

"You know, I didn't intend for that to end so soon."

His voice was muffled by her hair. Hermione smiled.

"You didn't?"

"No," Remus grumbled, pulling back and off of her. He slipped from her body, and Hermione internally sulked at the empty feeling he left behind. Yeah, she'd fallen all right. "I did plan on 'punishing' you for coming on my tongue and for calling out 'Remus' when you did. Teasing you with, er, me, before finally joining us. But you looked so fucking amazing spread out on that desk like an offering, moaning and convulsing from my ministrations that I couldn't wait any longer."

He climbed off the desk, grabbed his wand and preformed a quick cleaning charm on both himself and Hermione before pulling his pants and slacks back on, then settled back into the chair and gathered Hermione in his arms. He pulled his robes around her so that her bottom half didn't get too cold, and Hermione couldn't help a quiet snort of the image of his open robes swinging around his naked legs as he thrust into her.

Actually, that was quite an interesting image… she shook her head and peered around the chair and desk to distract herself, her body already thrumming from his confession - something that showed exactly how comfortable they were with each other. Remus wasn't a particularly extroverted person.

No, it wouldn't do to get worked up now. She really needed to go home and kill Sirius.

"Have you seen my clothes anywhere?" she asked, frowning when Remus's chest rumbled with his quiet laughter.

"Oh, they're gone, love. He _is_ Sirius after all."

"He's a prat is what he is," Hermione huffed in agitation, scowling as she lay back against him. "How am I supposed to get home with nothing but skin below my navel?"

"You can use the floo in my office. No worries."

"Says the person who doesn't have a decrepit old dog at home, probably waiting for this very situation," she grumbled. Remus hummed and shook his head, resting his cheek on her hair.

"He won't be waiting," he said quietly, and there was something in his tone that had Hermione drawing back and looking at him. Remus held her gaze steadily and the bushy-haired witch slowly cocked her head.

"This fantasy," she said just as quietly, "you've had it for a while?"

Remus nodded, flushing a little, the corner of his mouth turning up sheepishly. "Ah, yeah. Ever since you tried on that collared shirt and tartan skirt when we were in London. Sirius and firewhiskey managed to pry it out of me a couples of weeks ago. We were both rather drunk, so I didn't think he'd remember. To be honest, I'd sort of forgotten about it myself. Then this-" he rapped his knuckles against the desk, "-showed up today with the note attached. Conveniently right before you got here, now that I think about it. I didn't think much of it until I left to look for a book in the library and came back to see you… well, like you were." His eyes crinkled at the corners as worry suddenly clouded the soft green. "You're not offended are you? I _was_ a little rough and you couldn't move, but I did make sure you were okay with it before we went too far. And it definitely wasn't going to happen with anyone but you because the, er…"

"Dirty professor/willing student fantasy?" Hermione supplied when he hesitated, smiling slightly. Remus's shoulders relaxed at the expression.

"Yeah. You're the only one I ever wanted to take the student role. Sirius would've known that and adjusted the spells accordingly."

"I know," she assured him, playing with the greying hair that brushed his ears. Remus turned his head and kissed her palm. "I figured that out when I realized where it was going. I was definitely into it and you know I don't mind rough at all. I just wish you'd told me before now."

"You do? Why?" the werewolf asked, arching a brow. Hermione grinned.

"So I could've bought the desk for you myself and we could've acted that out much sooner."

Remus's eyes tinted amber and he growled low in his throat before darting forward and kissing her roughly. Hermione chuckled against his mouth and eagerly kissed him back. They soon had to part for air, and after a couple of more quick brushes and pecks, the witch settled contentedly back against his chest. There was silence for a while.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"If you give Sirius the details of what just happened, he won't be the only dog who'll be neutered."

Remus laughed at the statement, the deep sound of amusement making Hermione smile. Her gaze swept the room, that bad habit kicking in, eyes finally lighting on the photo frame that was lying face down on the desk, having fallen over in the pair's enthusiasm. Her smile widened and she reached to pick it up, both witch and wizard looking at it when she turned it over.

It was a celebration. The picture caught the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and there were people shouting, screaming, crying, cheering, laughing, filling the frame. It'd been Hermione's gift to Remus when he'd taken the job as DADA professor, to remind him and his students that victory was possible in any situation.

Well, that's what Remus told anyone who asked anyway. Only he, Hermione and perhaps and few others knew about the couple right at the very back of the photo, almost obscured by distance and the celebrations. Unless you knew what you were looking for, it took a lot of squinting to pick out the sandy-blond wizard pressing the curly-haired witch up against the wall and snogging her within an inch of her life – almost as if the world had nearly ended.

Their first kiss. Hermione curled up further in Remus's lap and rested her head against his chest. It'd taken them five months to get over themselves after that kiss, Remus worrying about his lycanthropy and Hermione worrying about her arrival and consequential life in Remus's reality disrupting what she'd thought of as a fated relationship between him and Tonks, but they'd sorted it all out eventually. Now they were here and she couldn't be happier that they were.

"I do think I like your gift better," Remus murmured, making Hermione look up at him with an incredulous expression.

"Really? You just took me on your brand new desk and you like a photo better?"

"Well, it was a beginning, wasn't it? I've always liked beginnings, especially ones that lead to me taking you on my brand new desk," Remus smirked, eyes laughing. Hermione grinned brightly and chuckled under her breath, then sat the photo on the desk where it belonged, watching the couple in the back kiss fondly.

She might never go home. That was an undeniable fact. But at that moment, wrapped in Remus's arms, that actually didn't seem like a bad thing.

Not a bad thing at all.


End file.
